


Open Doors

by suyari



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is unique. Drift compatible with nearly everyone he meets. He is an asset they cannot afford to lose. Ranger life has given and taken and given back, but when Steve's co-pilot returns from the dead, there are decisions to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even explain this. I just saw Winter Soldier and then this happened.

They sit around the table, pilots, friends, family. Trying to console one of their own at a crossroads, with no words to assist them.

Steve flexes his hands, staring down at them. Beside him, Sam's flex as well, though they are carefully placed. One on the table and one in his lap. Still, Natasha notices everything, as does her co-pilot. Clint sighs and leans back, stretching his legs out beneath the table. She nudges a knee to his thigh for support. It's an odd situation, and no one's really all that comfortable with it - let alone trying to approaching it as a topic. Even Tony hasn't said anything. And for once, it isn't because Rhodey's interfered.

But Steve is clearly coming apart at the seams. And it's affecting his and Sam's neural handshake. Steve has always been one of those ideal soldiers. A Ranger who - uniquely - had a high compatibility rating with nearly everyone he'd tested against. Steve could adapt quickly as needed, and did so easily. The transition smooth and unobtrusive. He was generally quiet, except for when he was actively engaged in a conversation or asked his opinion. But in the drift...Natasha had drifted with him before. She'd needed someone to help her save her own co-pilot when he'd been dragged off by a Kaiju. Steve hadn't hesitated. He'd shown up in full drivesuit and climbed into the conn-pod with her. She hadn't felt overwhelmed by him, rather, it was like embracing someone. Feeling their strong arms holding you tightly. Knowing from the gesture alone that everything would be alright and taking both comfort and confidence from it. They'd run the kaiju down and saved Clint, who - along with Natasha - felt forever indebted to Steve. Even if Steve didn't feel as such himself.

When Bucky had been torn from their conn-pod, Steve had been inconsolable. There'd been no trace of his co-pilot - a man who'd been chosen from a long line of potentials due to the deep nature of the lifelong bond between them - and he'd been assumed dead. Steve had put up a fight when Marshal Fury had suggested a new co-pilot. Rangers like Steve were rare. Highly compatible, extremely dedicated, and unfailingly efficient - they _needed_ him out in the field. But a Ranger couldn't be forced into a conn-pod against their will. The neural handshake - if it was established at all - would be weak, and the Jaeger ultimately useless. So Steve had remained on the sidelines, desperately holding out hope, and doing his best to pick up the slack everywhere else when the guilt grew too heavy upon his heart. He did what he could, here and there, and it wasn't all that shocking to see him wielding a mop, a knife, or a welding torch with ease. Mostly though, he taught. Running cadets through the Kwoon. Helping Rangers be properly paired. If his absence from the conn-pod had caused injury, he'd more than made up for it by helping piece together fourteen separate teams, the likes of which, no one else would have given much thought to.

The day he met Sam, Natasha could tell right away something was different. They engaged, and Steve _enjoyed_ it. He'd laughed and taunted Sam right back as they traded blows. They'd eaten dinner together that night, and across the table from one another, Natasha had nudged Clint, turning his sharp eyes on the pair. He'd raised a brow in surprise and she'd known it wasn't just her imagination. Steve laughed and spoke animatedly, life in his eyes again.

When she'd informed the Marshal, he'd talked Steve and Sam into a conn-pod. And they'd been co-pilots ever since. Sam brought out all the parts of Steve that had died when he'd been forced to endure Bucky's death, unable to save him. And in Sam, Steve had ignited a sort of passion for life and the everyday she'd never before seem in him. They were good together and for one another, and their kill count rivaled Tony and Rhodey's - no one could take Natasha and Clint, and they liked to remind them of that whenever the chance arose.

Three days ago, Bucky had turned up. Alive and amnesiac. He'd survived. Had been living in a small Russian township, where he'd washed up and been taken in. He'd ended up living among them, working with them, and never once coming into contact with anything that was like to remind him. Until a Kaiju attacked too near the coast, and had been taken down. Bucky had been surprised and asked about it, surprising his fellows with his lack of knowledge of the Kaiju's existance at all. As soon as the situation had been explained to him, he'd gone straight to Vladivostock to enlist, and once there...

"You know I'll understand," Sam says suddenly, eyes fixed on the table. "If you want..." He doesn't say it. He doesn't have to. Instead biting down on his lip.

"He doesn't remember me," Steve replies, voice hoarse, nearly strangled by emotion.

Sam reaches out and takes his hand. "He will." Lacing their fingers, he gives Steve's hand a firm squeeze, ducking his head to meet his eyes. "Get him in the conn-pod and the drift will take care of everything."

Natasha leans into Clint, unhappy with the turn of events. She loves Bucky, and she's happy that he's back, but Steve and Sam are a good thing, and there's no telling what a drift with Bucky now will do to Steve.

"I'll be right here," Sam continues, encouragingly. "No matter what. I'll be right here."

"I don't love you that much," Tony says abruptly turning to Rhodey. "I'm selfish and possessive and I don't care _who_ it is that wants you - I won't ever love you enough to let you go."

Rhodey smiles and leans his head in, brow to Tony's temple. "I could. But, I won't."

"Steve?" Clint asks, reaching down beneath the table to take her hand in his. Their fingers tangle freely, their grips equally tight, almost desperate.

"Have you decided?" she asks.

Steve's hand squeezes Sam's. His other reaching up to clasp around it. He turns to look, tears in his eyes, and Natasha tries not to let the sinking feeling settle in her gut. Sam knows. She can see it in his eyes. But he just smiles and nods.

"I _have_ to try."


End file.
